


Certainty

by DancingForRain



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Derek is In Love, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Slash, WHEN will I stop sucking at story titles, everything I write is pre-slash lmao, horrible understanding of medical practices (by me), injured Spencer, medical proxy, surprising amount of hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingForRain/pseuds/DancingForRain
Summary: Spencer asks Derek to be his medical proxy after Gideon leaves. Derek doesn't think much of it until the night he's asked to actually play the role.





	Certainty

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a drabble but I was asked to continue it and it became an actual story! I've never gotten the call Derek does in this and I know nothing about how medicine works so I'm sorry if this is all grossly inaccurate. Hopefully still enjoyable?

It’s four months after Gideon leaves when Reid stops by Derek’s desk one morning, carrying two coffees and an air of nervousness. He accepts the disposable cup gratefully and sits through the small talk, waiting for Reid to gather the courage to come out with whatever it is he needs to say. He knows it can’t be anything too drastic; Reid would never attempt to broach the subject at work if it was. But clearly it’s not something he’s comfortable with and Derek’s happy to give him the time he needs.

But after twenty minutes of discussing the weather and Reid’s upcoming paper on cognitive behavioural therapy his words dry up, and the young genius is left leaning against Derek’s desk fiddling with his now empty cup. He’s not looking at Derek – hasn’t made eye contact once during the conversation – but rather at his hands. His nervous albeit genuine smile ticks down as he thinks.

Finally, Derek acknowledges that he needs a small push. “Something on your mind, kid?”

“Not – um – “ Reid huffs, frustrated with himself, and Derek can see the moment he steadies himself and pushes through it. It’s something he’s noticed about the guy since his very first day at the BAU; however uncomfortable he is, however scared or out of his depth Reid finds himself, he always forces himself to overcome it. Even, at times, to his own detriment. It’s something equally admirable and frustrating about their youngest member. “I sort of need to ask a favour?”

Ah. The hesitance suddenly makes sense. Reid asking for help is about as common a sighting as the Loch Ness Monster. The aftermath of Hankel is solid proof of that. “Sure man,” he says immediately, not wanting to give him a chance to backpedal. “What do ya need?”

Reid clears this throat. Spins the cup between his nimble fingers. “It’s not, I mean, it’s not really… a big deal, I can really – I can ask someone else, if it’s a problem – “

“Reid,” Derek gently rests a hand on his knee, immediately stilling him. “It’s fine, just ask.”

Reid looks at his hand, silent for a moment, before rolling his eyes and pushing out in one breath “I need a medical proxy.” Derek can’t help but raise his eyebrows. Okay, he hadn’t seen that one coming. Reid, of course, takes his moment of surprise for reluctance and powers on, “I know, sorry, it’s probably weird to ask, and like I said, it’s not like it has to be you, or anything, but I just, you were, um, one option, I had in mind, and I figured I’d ask you before – “

Derek recognises this as one of his ‘I will keep going until someone interrupts or I pass out from lack of oxygen’ rants pretty quickly and uses his grip on the kid’s knee to squeeze gently, saying “hey, hey. Reid. Breathe.”

He stops his diatribe and does indeed take a breath, but he’s glaring down at the floor now and Derek can see him calculating a hasty retreat. He doesn’t let go of the man’s leg. “I’m just – I wasn’t expecting that. Why do you suddenly need a new proxy? What happened to – oh.”

Gideon. God, Derek could kick himself. Of course it was Gideon. It couldn’t be his sick mother, and as far as he knows Reid hasn’t seen his dad since he was pint-sized. Gideon had all but officially adopted him, years before Reid was even an agent.

Not for the first time, Derek has an overwhelming urge to hunt down their wayward leader, just so he can get in a good punch to the face. Even now, months after his unannounced departure, months after that freaking letter Derek  _knows_ Reid keeps in the bottom draw of his desk, Gideon’s finding new ways to hurt the team he left behind.

He’s stewed too long. Reid’s standing from the desk, still glaring at the floor. “Don’t worry about it, actually, I can just, um, I’ll ask JJ.” His face has gone an angry red, and fuck, but Derek kind of just wants to hug him. Reid, even at his young age, can be highly proud and doggedly independent; the results of the parent/child role reversal he experienced far too young and having spent his entire life surrounded by older peers who would look down on him or expect too much from him in turn. Having to admit to his co-worker – especially Derek, he knows – that he doesn’t have anyone else to turn to must have hurt.

“Hey, Kid,” he says quickly, reaching out and snagging the sleeve of his ridiculous cardigan before he can get too far away. He tugs him closer, just a little, and waits for Reid to actually look at him before he continues. “It’s fine. I’d love to, actually.”

Now it’s Reid’s turn to raise an eyebrow, his expression speaking volumes of just how much he believes that. “You would.”

Derek grins. “Are you kidding me? The chance to follow you around the hospital the next time you get tackled and give you shit? You won’t be able to escape.” He laughs. “Hell, if anyone should be having second thoughts about this, it’s you.”

Truthfully, although it’s never something he’s remotely considered before now, the idea of taking on this role for Reid is surprisingly appealing. He’s not obtuse, he’s noticed the way his protective instincts kick up a gear when it’s Reid in the firing line. Caught in the emergency room with the L.D.S.K, the kid holding a gun to his head, that damn situation on the train – every time Reid finds himself in trouble Derek can feel himself losing a year from his life and it’s undeniable, the urge he feels every time it’s over to check the kid over himself, to inspect him and interrogate him and just – just be  _with_  him, keep him in his sight until he can finally convince himself that he’s okay. If he becomes Reid’s medical proxy, not only will he be allowed to do all that, he’ll have the excuse to do so without looking like – well. Like something he isn’t. Something they’re not.

Reid recognises his joking attitude for what it is, but he seems to at least be considering the fact that Derek isn’t just agreeing not to hurt his feelings. “Are you sure? It’s really not necessary,” he still says, because it’s Reid.

Derek deliberately misinterprets that statement and rolls his eyes good naturedly. “It’s pretty necessary in this job, Reid.” Come to think of it, “wait, who do you have on the form now? It’s been… it’s a been a few months, man.”

“I know,” Reid says, voice going quiet, “I just, um. I haven’t really… gotten around to it.” He picks at his sleeve and has gone back to avoiding looking Derek in the eyes. He’s grateful, this time, because he doesn’t really want Reid to see the emotion he knows is playing out on his face. Reid’s been hoping Gideon would return. He was waiting for it.

Son of a bitch.

He holds in the sigh that desperately wants to come out and schools his expression. “Okay. No worries, man. Just get me the form and I’ll sign it.” They’re both pretending, and they both know it. But there’s no way Reid’s going to own up to the real reason he’s left it so late, and trying to bring it out into the open will just push him away. So Derek goes along with the charade, comforted by yet another daydream about breaking Gideon’s nose.

Reid nods, smiles, says “thanks Morgan” in a soft tone, and it brings Derek back to the present moment, brings his own smile back to his face.

“See if you’re saying that the next time you get carted off to the emergency room. You’re not going to get a moment of peace.”

Reid scowls. “Thanks for the confidence with which you say ‘if’ and not ‘when’. You just assume I’m going to end up in life-threatening situations, now?”

 _Not if I can help it_ , Derek thinks, but he’s too realistic to truly mean it. He knows with their job it’s probably inevitable. Out loud, however, he says “obviously. Pretty face like that is just a magnet for trouble.”

Reid rolls his eyes and shoves Derek, and Derek laughs. There’s been some part of him that’s been worried for Reid near constantly since Gideon left, a part of him that he’s only now realising was there. He can feel it growing smaller as the younger man makes his way to his own desk, confident in the knowledge that the next time Reid is in trouble, he won’t need Gideon there to pick up the pieces.

Derek can do the job just fine, thanks.

* * *

 

Derek’s phone waking him up in the middle of the night is far from unusual in his line of work, but that never makes it easier. He finds himself roughly pulled out of a deep sleep to the unfairly cheerful trilling coming from his bedside table and allows a groan to escape as he forces himself to sit up. Rubbing his face he reaches blindly for the phone and answers it without looking, already cursing whatever murderer has seen fit to ruin his Tuesday night.

“Yeah.”

“Derek Morgan?”

He opens his eyes at the unfamiliar voice and glances at his phone. The number seems vaguely familiar but he can’t place it. “Who’s this?”

“This is Sam from MedStar Medical Group Hospital, am I speaking with Derek Morgan?”

A fist clenches around Derek’s heart and he inhales too fast before answering, “yeah - yeah, that’s me. What’s happened?”

The woman on the other end of the line is crisp, efficient. “Mr Morgan I have you here as Spencer Reid’s medical proxy - “

“What happened?” Derek repeats. His voice is clipped and a small part of him feels guilty for being so abrupt but the rest of him is in free fall over those words. His mind is already running through all the possibilities, all the ways Spencer could be hurt, could be  _dying_ -

“I’m sorry to tell you Sir, but Spencer was involved in a hit and run half an hour ago.” Oh, god. The vice on his heart tightens. “As his proxy - “

“Is he okay?” Derek asks, needs to know before anything else.

A slight pause, a barely there hesitation that’s damning to Derek’s ears. “Unfortunately two of Spencer’s ribs were broken in the collision and his left lung has been punctured.” Derek gasps, uncontrolled. He feels cold and there’s a rushing sound that’s starting up in his ears but the woman continues before he can be overwhelmed. “Mr Morgan, Spencer needs surgery urgently, but we have on his file to avoid opioids - “

“So use a general anesthetic,” Derek says shortly. Later, he’ll look back on this conversation and feel sorry for not letting her get a full sentence in. Right now, all he can think about is Spencer, broken and unconscious and relying on Derek to get him through this. “Isn’t that the usual thing?”

“He’s allergic to propofol, Sir.” She’s beginning to sound impatient. Derek wonders rather hysterically if she’s judging him for not knowing that. “We can administer diazepam, but we don’t know how his body will react to it.”

Derek hunches forward, his chest to his knees, and wills himself to breathe. “What do you need from me?”

“We need a decision, Sir. Spencer needs to remain under for this operation, and we can use the diazepam, but it comes with a rather large risk; if he has a bad reaction to the medication, it could be fatal.” No sugarcoating. She says it with the same tone of voice she’s said everything else, and it hits Derek like a punch to the gut. “The alternative is morphine. His medical file has a note about not using opioids but it may be the safer option in this case.”

Derek prides himself on keeping a cool head in emergencies; facing down killers, high speed chases, hostage negotiations, all of those he can navigate with calm and quick thinking. But now, sitting in his bed in nothing but a pair of boxers and having his best friend’s life put in his hands, his mind has gone scarily blank.

He knows why Spencer has made a note of avoiding opioids. They all do, even if it’s never spoken about out loud. He watched Spencer after Tobias Hankel, watched him for months as the younger man devolved. He could see the struggle he was going through every time he looked him in the eyes, see the conflict, the sleepless nights, the guilt and shame, the constant battle to resist an addiction he never asked for. He has his own fair share of guilt for that period. Barely a day goes by that he doesn’t wish he’d worked harder to be there for Spencer. He’ll always regret not confronting him in some way about what he was going through. There are some days where he feels it would have been better to just storm over to his apartment and demand to have his stash.

But his near obsessive observing of Spencer means he also saw the recovery; he watched as Dr Reid came back to them, inch by painful inch. He knows how hard he worked to kick his addiction. He was there when Spencer hid in the men’s bathroom, curled over a toilet and shaking as his body begged him for a drug that was slowly destroying him. He’d passed him paper towels, wiped his face when it was over, and neither of them had said a word about it.

Now he wishes more than ever that he’d been a braver man, that he’d just bitten the bullet and fucking talked about it. He hadn’t been able to acknowledge it, hadn’t wanted to give the problem a name, but now it’s screaming at him, no longer willing to go unnoticed, and he has no goddamn clue what to do.

“Mr Morgan? We need a decision.”

Derek thinks again of Spencer, pale and shaking in that cramped toilet stall, sees the look of grim determination on his young face. Remembers how hard he fought to regain himself. How desperate he was to leave Hankel and all the consequences that came with him behind. He knows what he wants - he wants the safest option, he wants the highest chances possible for Spencer to come out of this okay. But when Spencer asked him to be his medical proxy, he was putting his trust in Derek. He was choosing to believe Derek would do the right thing, make the right choices when he wouldn’t be able to. This isn’t about what Derek wants. It’s about what Spencer wants. Even if it may end up damning him.

“Diazepam,” he murmurs into the phone. Forces himself to raise his voice, speak clearly. “Use the diazepam.”

* * *

The chairs in the emergency room are just as hard and uncomfortable as he remembers. It’s a universal fact about hospitals, as if it’s an unspoken rule that waiting family aren’t permitted to truly settle. Derek doesn’t bother trying. He sits hunched, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. There’s still no news about the surgery and his thoughts are in an endless loop, questioning if he made the right choice, if he’s just doomed Spencer’s chances of a full recovery. Maybe he should have said to hell with it, told them to go with the morphine. No chance of complications. No allergic reaction. Christ, what if his body doesn’t take to the drug, what if he wakes up while they’re -

He shakes his head, tells himself to snap out of it. Spencer would never have forgiven him. He might have had to go through the process of addiction and withdrawal all over again, and Derek knows with a certainty that that is the last thing Spencer would ever want. Derek knows, though it frightens him to admit it, that Spencer would rather die.

“Derek?”

He looks up and knows the relief at seeing Garcia shows in every inch of his body. He feels his shoulders slack and a gust of air blow out of him as he stands and embraces her. She’s trembling and her face is blotchy, but she’s not crying. As he stands back and looks at her he can see how hard she’s trying to hold it together, and with some guilt he realises she’s doing it for him. He’s always strong for her, always takes on the role of being calm and rational in times of crisis because she needs that reassurance, needs someone she can fall apart against. But this is Spencer, and she knows more than anyone how much the kid means to him. Just this once, he needs someone else to support him, and she’s ready to be that person. He feels unending gratitude and love for her.

“Hey Mama. How’re you doing?”

She sniffles but keeps her voice steady. “I’m okay, honey bee. More importantly, how are you?” She knows about the decision he had to make. She was the first one he called, and immediately reassured him that he’d done the right thing. It only helps because he knows she believes it.

“Yeah, I’ll have to get back to you on that one,” he says with a weak smile.

The rest of the team show up in increments to join the waiting game. Prentiss looks vaguely sick as JJ holds onto her hand with all the desperation of someone trying not to get swept out to sea. Hotch has the tight expression he always wears when one of his people are in danger.

Rossi’s reaction is a surprise. This is his first time dealing with an injured teammate since coming out of retirement, and Derek’s not sure what he’d been expecting but the palpable anger emanating from the older man wasn’t it. He’s not entirely sure if the anger’s at the still unknown driver who swerved onto the footpath before leaving Spencer lying helpless on the ground, or at Spencer in some misguided slight for being hurt in the first place, or if it’s just at the whole situation, but he’s already resolved not to let Spencer see him until he’s calmed down.

Derek has some irrational anger of his own, at Spencer for declining his offer of a lift home, at himself for allowing it. He’d known the genius wouldn’t be leaving the office for another few hours, had tried to cajole him into getting out at normal time for once in his damn life, but he’d conceded defeat quickly. If he’d just worked a little harder to convince him, if he’d stayed a little bit later, maybe they wouldn’t be here now, stuck in the unknown, waiting to hear if their friend would be okay.

Time crawls by, intoxicated and injured people coming and going around the small bubble the team has created. Derek doesn’t know how long they wait, only that when someone walks through the double doors and calls his name his ass is numb from the hard, unforgiving seat. His legs shake just slightly as he stands and walks over, the team solid at his back, and he hopes that no one notices.

The surgeon introduces herself as Dr Andrea Said and launches into an explanation without preamble, something Derek is pathetically grateful for. “It was a success,” is what she starts with and finally, finally Derek feels that solid weight being lifted from his shoulders. He feels like he can really, truly breathe for the first time since he got the call. “Physically, Dr Reid is going to make a full recovery. We’ll need to keep him here for a few days to make sure there are no further complications, and I advise a minimum of two weeks before he can return to work - no strenuous activity for at least a month.” Her voice turns stern near the end and Derek nods, already compiling an action plan in his head to keep Spencer from overdoing it. He knows from experience it’ll be an uphill battle.

Then Rossi points out something he hadn’t noticed and his stress levels rocket back up. “Further complications? Did something happen?”

Dr Said looks to Derek first and he confirms with a nod of his head that the team can hear this. Words suddenly seem beyond him.

With an apologetic grimace she replies “he woke up briefly during the operation. We had him on a minimum dose of the diazepam as we weren’t sure how his body would react to the anesthetic. It was brief, but he was temporarily aware and most likely in a lot of pain.”

Derek squeezes his eyes shut against the news. He can feel Garcia’s hand slipping into his, reassuring him.

_I did the right thing. I did the right thing._

He knows he did, logically. He knows Spencer will agree. He knows he made the right choice.

That doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing away at him, though.

* * *

It’s close to 10am when Spencer finally begins to wake up. He’s disoriented and confused, and Derek knows the stark walls of a hospital room is going to make him panic so he immediately stands over him, making his face Spencer’s point of focus as he grabs his hand. Spencer looks up at him with drowsy eyes. It makes his heart clench, but after the night he’s had this particular feeling is a whole lot more pleasant. He smiles down at him, and he knows the expression is far too dopey and says way too much about his feelings, but he doesn’t bother holding it in. They’re the only two in the room, and Spencer’s too drugged to notice anyway.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” he says softly.

Spencer tries to speak but it comes out as a hoarse croak - an after effect of the tube that had been sitting in his throat until they could get his lung working properly. Derek helps him sit up and hands him a cup of water from the side table. He drinks half of it before putting it back down. His eyes flit around the room, that brilliant brain making the connections in seconds before he looks back at Derek with something akin to fear. Derek brushes his cheek with his free hand before he can stop himself, wanting more than anything to take that look off his face. “You’re okay,” he murmurs.

“I’m - I’m not - “ Spencer looks at the crook of his elbow where there’s bruising from the IV he’d been connected to and Derek immediately understands why he’s so scared. “What did they give me?”

“General anesthetic, kid.” He hooks his fingers under Spencer’s chin, makes him look back, wants his words to get through. “You’re okay. I promise.”

Spencer’s response is an immediate look of such relief that the last of Derek’s fears disappear. “Good,” he says. “Good.”

“You really scared us there,” Derek tells him. He’s barely in check of his emotions, too overwhelmed at seeing Spencer awake and okay and  _alive_. “You… you scared me.”

Spencer’s expression turns concerned. He starts searching Derek’s face, reading all the tells they’re trained to see, so Derek quickly looks away and forces a laugh. “I’m telling you man, this whole proxy thing isn’t so hot. You really shouldn’t have me making these kinds of decisions for you.”

His hand is still intertwined with Spencer’s and the younger man uses that connection to tug at Derek, pull him close. He looks at Derek with such sincerity and trust that it hurts, just a little. Derek gets scared when Spencer looks at him like that, like he can fix everything, like he can make anything happen by sheer force of will. It scares him because he doesn’t know how to live up to those expectations. It scares him more because it makes him want to try anyway.

“Morgan,” he says gently, “Derek. There’s no one else I’d rather have making those decisions. I’m sorry I scared you, but. Thank you.” He tugs on Derek’s hand again, seemingly without noticing, and Derek can’t look away from those big brown eyes. “Thank you, Derek.”

And just like that, he knows he’d do it all over again. He’d take a million calls, spend a million nights in those stupid plastic chairs. He’d make the decision over and over and over again, because Spencer trusts him to, and Spencer trusts so very little. He’d do anything for this man, this brilliant, kind, incredible man. If making these kinds of calls is what it takes to keep him safe, to keep him happy, he’ll do it gladly. Every single time.


End file.
